We Haven't Turned Around
by MonkeyPajamas
Summary: Jane's thought as she rides back to the FBI. Post 2.01


Author's Note: I really don't own _Blindspot_. Sometimes I'm not even sure I'm smart enough to watch _Blindspot_. But I do anyways. And then I write about them, because apparently watching the episode four times in one day isn't enough. Long story short, don't sue me.

Title from "We Haven't Turned Around" by Gomez.

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Jane walked slowly across the park, the world a blur around her. She had a family. _A family_. It was what she had spent the past year searching for. People who knew her before; people who loved her unconditionally. Roman and Shepherd could provide real answers, not only about Sandstorm for the FBI, but answers about what she was like as a child, before all this started. What did she want for her 8th birthday? Did she dress up for Halloween? What was her favorite subject in school? Had she ever ridden a roller coaster or spent the night in a hospital?

When she had first met Oscar, she was so desperate for answers, for a connection and a sense of meaning to what had happened to her. He had introduced her to oolong tea, yaki soba, and jazz music. But he had also manipulated her, teasing out information only on his schedule, whenever he needed her to do something, and most of that had been a lie.

She knew she couldn't really trust them, at least not entirely. Shepherd – her mom – she reminded herself, especially seemed too focused on the cause at hand to necessarily care about Jane's questions. When she first arrived, Shepherd's only concern had been to sweep her for bugs. She hadn't even reached out to try to touch her or hug her. Even the way she had said "I'm your mother," sounded vaguely threatening. Jane flashed back to the solider, whose mom was so grateful he had come back, despite what he had done. Shepherd was so focused on the mission, on getting Jane back in play at the FBI, she didn't seem to care that Jane was back.

Jane tried to picture Shepherd as a mother. She couldn't even imagine having her called her 'mom'. Was she the type of mom who baked cookies and played in the yard with them? Or had she just taken them from one type of hell into another? Jane quickly flashed back, remembering seeing her parents, her biological parents, shot to death in their own home. Her parents, who had died fighting for what they believed in, fighting for what was right. She wasn't sure of exactly who this Shepherd was to her and what type of parent she had been. But she knew that her real parents had been good, and maybe that meant that Jane was a good person also, just like Kurt had thought all those months ago.

But Roman was different. She had remembered him. Quick flashes, a lifetime of memories. He had been the one face that she always could recognize, even when she didn't know what she was seeing. Even as Jane, when she told Hobbes that Cade was after her, he had sent Roman to help her. Just like now. Roman hadn't even second guessed her motives. His first concern had been her – asking if she remembered him, and then, gently helping her down to the car to get to the medical cache. The entire time, he had been nothing by caring, concerned about her and only her. When she looked into his eyes, she trusted him completely. He had scared her, the way he had killed those cops without hesitation. But he was still her brother. His blood was flowing through her body right now. If no one else, he was there for her, both for the memory of Remi, and for Jane now.

It scared her, how this felt right in a way that being Taylor Shaw never had. With Taylor, it felt like she was always chasing Kurt. He had these memories, this idea of who she was supposed to be, how she was supposed to act, to feel. She wanted to be Taylor; she wanted it more than anything. But it was always for Kurt. Because he had done so much for her, she wanted to be there for him, to help fill the void that had left there all those years ago.

Despite how right it felt with Roman, with Shepherd, these were not the people she should trust. They were Sandstorm. They were the bad guys, the ones who had killed hundreds of people, who wanted to overthrow the government.

The same government who had taken her, tortured her for three months. Kept her locked up, half starved, as they shocked her, beat her, drowned her.

Jane felt sick, remembering the lies, the torture, the pain. She leaned over the edge of the bridge, trying to catch her breath, to stop her mind from spiraling out of control.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" The officer approached her, his eyes focused on the blood stain on Jane's shirt.

"What? Oh," she said, her eyes glancing downward, only just now remembering the gun shot, the pain flooding back to her. Her side burned from where the bullet had pierced her skin. Roman had given her some medicine stolen from the hospital, but even still, she found it hard to remain standing at that moment. She gripped the railing a little tighter, turning towards the officer, gritting her teeth. Her mind raced, trying to concoct a story that wouldn't invite more questions. "Yeah, I'm fine. There was someone at the park, they got hurt, but uh, they're totally fine now, the police came and everything. I just am on my way home to change before work." She forced a smile, trying to act casual about the whole encounter.

He eyed her suspiciously, glancing around her, checking for a threat. "Are you sure ma'am? The station is just a mile down the road."

"Yes, officer, I'm fine. Thank you, though. I'm heading home now. In fact, I better hurry if I want to catch the train." She walked away, feeling the officer's gaze following her every move. She bundled the shirt slightly, draping her arms, trying to hide the large stain.

As she swiped the card at the turnstile, she paused, looking once again at the different trains that ran through this station. She could choose any of them. Take them far away from here, away from the FBI, away from Kurt, away from Shepherd, away from all of this.

When she was dropped in Times Square a year ago, she was just a victim, a vessel for information. Under duress, she had completed the missions that Oscar had given her, became a mole, a double agent inside the FBI. But now the FBI wanted her to be a double agent for them. Report back on what she could find out about Shepherd and Sandstorm. And Shepherd wanted her to continue on the mission, continue to work against the FBI. And right now, Jane wasn't sure what _she_ wanted.

She walked up the stairs to the platform, still not sure what she was going to do. On the left, it was the southbound train. Back to the FBI, back to Kurt, to Nas, and whatever lay ahead. On the right, northbound meant freedom. Finding another job that paid cash. Saving up until she could go far away, somewhere the CIA could never find her again.

She took a deep breath, and turned to the left. She knew running away wasn't the answer. She had to go back to the FBI. She knew who she was, but more importantly, she knew exactly who Shepherd was. She had answers, and they deserved to know that much. And Roman and Shepherd were expecting her to go back, to complete their mission. She knew none of them may ever trust her again, and maybe she couldn't trust them either. But she knew what was right. She knew she wanted to be a person her parents would be proud of. She knew she had to stop Sandstorm.

She was one of only a few passengers on the train this early. She purposely sat on the left, hiding her bloodied shirt from view, trying to avoid questions from well-meaning bystanders. She rested her head against the window, watching the cars pulling into the parking lot below, the people hurrying to catch a train, heading over to the park, starting their day. They had no idea what was out there – the threats, Sandstorm, any of it. They were just concerned with making it to work on time, the day to day drama that ruled their lives. But Jane knew. And she would fight to protect it.

The train pulled away, and the parking lot soon blended into a string of other parking lots and businesses as it passed through Corona on its way back to Manhattan. At every station, more people got on, but still, Jane was lucky enough to have the seat to herself, as passenger after passenger passed by, choosing another row, or standing near the door. Once, when someone came near, she shot them a panicked look, and they quickly slid into the row behind her. She knew this privacy may not last, but right now she was desperate for that small bit of privacy the seat provided.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the coin that Roman had given her. This was hers. The only thing she could truly say was hers and hers alone. Something from before; from when she was Remi and he was Roman. She drew a deep breath, shuddering slightly, as she realized how much this meant to her. How this single coin, that she knew nothing about, was now the most important thing she had. Everything else had been lost. How much had been lost when she started with this mission. Then the past year, how it all fell apart, her life ripped apart again that fateful night with Kurt. This coin was all she had. Her fingers rubbed over the well-worn markings as she studied it, trying to piece together the significance.

The top side contained a crest of some sort. The markings were faded from time and use, and details were hard to make out. She could tell there were some animals, maybe an antelope of some kind, and some leaves or branches surrounding it. The words South Africa and Suid Afrika were stamped around the crest, along with the year – 1984. Jane's breath caught in her throat. She placed her fingers over the numbers, feeling the etchings beneath. Now that she had Remi, this date seemed significant, more than just a random year. Was this coin from the year she was born? Was that why he had kept it for her, all this time?

She turned it over, once again looking at the side that she had first seen when Roman had given it to her. The gazelle, paused in mid leap, took up the majority of the coin. There was a phrase, in Latin maybe, Soli Deo Gloria. And then 1 RAND, stamped across the bottom. She mulled over the phrase, her fingers rubbing it as if that would help her understand. The words were unfamiliar to her, unsure if it even was Latin, but she tried to piece together a meaning, guessing something similar to "only one god" or "giving glory to all," before moving on. One rand. The coin seemed large, too big to be a penny or the equivalent. She gently shook her head. It didn't matter how much monetary value it had, she knew that. It meant so much more than that.

She held it in her hand, staring at it once again. It felt big, heavier than most of the coins that she was used to. But maybe that was just because of its importance to her, to Remi. It wasn't just a coin, worth one rand. It was everything to her now. She sighed, turning it over, committing the image to memory, before once again shoving it in her pocket.

The sun was just starting to rise as the train turned down 7th Avenue, passing Central Park. It had been months since she had last been on these streets, riding this same Q train from her safe house down to the FBI. But as she rode, it all came flooding back. The sights, the sounds, the memories. She knew what was coming. First would be Times Square, where she became Jane, when Remi ceased to exist except as a memory. Next was Korea Town, and the shoot out in the street when they were tracking the chemical weapons. Then 28th street, where her safe house was only a block away. She briefly wondered what had happened to it – was everything now in the evidence locker, stored right beside the duffel bag. She doubted she'd ever be allowed to return; she didn't believe Nas's promise of freedom. Then there was 8th street, with a little diner she liked to go to when she first snuck out, filled with students from NYU who didn't even seem to notice the tattoos as she walked by. Then finally Canal Street, just one block away from the FBI building.

When she came out the exit, the sky was pink with the morning sun. She reached down, feeling the coin heavy in her pocket. She gently rubbed the markings, and, taking a deep breath, turned towards the FBI building, ready to face whatever was next.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed my little thoughts on what happened after Jane was left alone at the Unisphere (aka the globe thing). I just wanted to explore what she was feeling with that rush of information just thrown at her.

As always, favorites and reviews are especially appreciated.


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